The Ring Of The Billionaire System

A System That Cannot Be Deceived

"Are you certain this item is only valued at that price, Sir? It looks rather ordinary."

The auctioneer's voice echoed through the high-ceilinged hall filled with guests in expensive suits. They sat in neat rows, holding bidding paddles in their hands.

I sat in the back row, wearing my new dark blue button-down shirt, attempting to look as composed as possible in a room vastly different from the world I was used to.

The auction staff had approached me when I registered at the desk, looking over my appearance with an appraising eye.

"Pardon me, Sir, but before entering the auction room, there is a minimum deposit of fifty thousand dollars," the attendant said, his tone polite yet tinged with doubt.

"No problem," I replied calmly, swiping my debit card without hesitation.

The staff member checked the machine's display screen and gave a respectful nod. "Please, step right in, Sir."

I observed the collectors, who all seemed to know one another.

"Next lot, an eighteenth-century replica Ming dynasty porcelain vase," the auctioneer's voice boomed from the podium. "Starting at fifty thousand dollars."

I looked at the vase, and just as I expected, the Appraiser's Eye immediately displayed a set of numbers hovering in midair, visible only to me.

[TRUE VALUE: $800,000]

My heart beat faster, but this time not out of fear. It was something far sharper, the instinct of a hunter who had just spotted a valuable prize.

"Fifty thousand," a man in the front row raised his paddle.

"Seventy-five thousand," another called out.

I raised my paddle, my voice firm, completely unlike the trembling tone that usually came out whenever I had to speak in front of a crowd.

"One hundred thousand dollars."

Several heads turned in my direction, some frowning in curiosity at the unfamiliar face among the veteran collectors.

"One hundred fifty thousand," a man in a gray suit in the middle row countered, his tone sounding confident.

I activated the Eye of the Heart to read his intentions.

[INTENTION: WANTS TO SHOW OFF WEALTH, DOES NOT TRULY WANT THE ITEM]

I offered a faint smile. If my opponent was merely playing for pride, I wasn't backing down. "Two hundred thousand dollars," I said, my voice quiet yet decisive.

The room immediately buzzed with whispers. The man in the gray suit stared at me for a long moment, his face flushing red, before he finally lowered his paddle and chose to stay silent.

"Two hundred thousand dollars, going once. Two hundred thousand dollars, going twice. Sold to bidder number twenty-seven!" The gavel fell like a gunshot, marking my very first victory in a world I had never imagined I could step into.

When the transaction was finished, a sharply dressed man in a black suit approached me. He offered a wide smile, extending his hand for a handshake.

"I'm Handoko, owner of several art galleries in the city," he said. His voice was warm, but something lurked behind his words. "May I ask your name?"

"Alsean Zeffran. Just call me Alsean, Sir."

"It's my first time seeing a new face at an auction like this, yet you were bold enough to bid up to two hundred thousand dollars right away. What line of business are you in?"

I paused for a moment, activating my ability once more to read the true intention behind his polite small talk.

[INTENTION: WANTS TO ESTABLISH A BUSINESS CONNECTION, SEES POTENTIAL PROFIT]

"I'm starting an antique trading business, Sir," I replied, picking a safe answer that wasn't entirely a lie.

"Interesting. If you're willing, I'd like to propose a collaboration. I have an extensive network of collectors. If you come across any exceptional pieces, I can help you sell them at a much higher price."

"Think it over. Here is my business card. If you're serious about the world of artifacts, we will certainly cross paths again. Just remember, not every collector plays fair."

I took the card, slipping it into my shirt pocket as I watched Mr. Handoko slowly walk away toward a crowd of other guests.

"System, can that man be trusted?"

"His intention is purely commercial, devoid of malice."

I gave a subtle nod, filing that information deep away while looking around the auction hall filled with influential figures, people whom, two days ago, I couldn't even imagine standing alongside.

That night, back at my apartment, which was still as modest as ever even if my bank account was now vastly different, I sat reviewing the sales results for the vase on a secondhand laptop I had just bought.

"System, the vase received an offer from a Japanese collector who says he's ready to pay nine hundred thousand dollars," I muttered, staring at the screen with a wide grin I couldn't hide.

"Only a few days in, and you've already made hundreds of thousands in profit," the system replied, flat as usual, but to my ears, the words sounded like sweet music.

"Unbelievable," I whispered, leaning back in my chair, staring up at my bedroom ceiling, which still leaked. "Just a few days, and I've made hundreds of thousands of dollars multiple times over."

I hadn't even had the chance to enjoy the moment any longer when my new phone rang. An unfamiliar number appeared on the screen.

"Hello?"

"Good evening, am I speaking with Mr. Alsean Zeffran, who attended the auction at the Art Hall earlier today?"

"Yes, that's right. Who is this?"

"I am a representative from the Smith Conglomerate Group. Our chairman was intrigued by the way you bid this afternoon. He would like to invite you to dinner next week."

I went silent for a second, trying to process an invitation that sounded far too sudden.

"May I know what this is regarding?"

"Simply a business courtesy, Sir. He is interested in potential investment opportunities. We will send the exact time and location details via message."

The line went dead without giving me a chance to ask anything further.

"System, is this invitation genuinely harmless?"

This time, the system's answer didn't come immediately, as if it were processing something more complex than usual.

"Anomaly detected. Another party has begun searching for information regarding the ownership of the Ring of Prosperity."

I sat bolt upright, all my euphoria evaporating in an instant.

"What do you mean? Someone knows about this ring?"

"It cannot be confirmed with certainty who this party is. However, the system has detected intensive searches concerning the origin of an ancient artifact matching the characteristics of the Ring of Prosperity, beginning from the copper pendant transaction at the antique shop two days ago."

"So the guy at the antique shop leaked it?"

"Most likely. Information regarding rare artifacts spreads quickly among underground collectors."

"Is it dangerous?"

"Some seek profit. Others seek something far more dangerous."

Those words made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I remembered what the old man who willed the ring to me had said about a responsibility he never fully explained before he died.

"System, what should I do now?"

"Maintain vigilance. Avoid discussing the origin of the ring with anyone. The Appraiser's Eye and the Eye of the Heart will assist the Heir in detecting threats early."

I decided to head out for a bit to grab dinner at a diner near my place, trying to settle a mind that had been overflowing ever since I received that news from the system.

The city streets were quiet that night. Only pale, flickering streetlights illuminated the cracked sidewalk I had walked thousands of times. Yet tonight felt different; a knot tightened at the base of my neck.

I stopped for a moment in front of a small alley, pretending to tie my shoe. My eyes darted back toward the reflection in the glass display of a closed shop.

A man in a black jacket stood across the street, lingering in the same spot for far too long to be a coincidence. His eyes seemed fixed right on me every time I moved.

I picked up my pace, turning into a narrow alley I usually took. But when I glanced back once more, the man in the black jacket was still there, now closer than before.

My heart pounded heavily, the ring on my finger suddenly felt cold, and the system's voice echoed once more, this time in a tone far more stern than usual.

"Warning. Foreign object detected tracking the Heir's movements for the past ten minutes."

"System," I whispered, my voice barely audible, my eyes still fixed on the reflection of the man in the black jacket in the window display, "that's really someone following me, isn't it?"